The House in the Pines(43)

Or she could be avoiding Maya—because maybe something did happen on the drive. The thought is so foreign, so paranoid, that it could belong to someone else. Yet it snowballs: What if Aubrey and Frank decided to hang out after he dropped her off? What if Aubrey invited him inside?

It doesn’t help that Maya hasn’t been able to get in touch with Frank. She called the number he gave her a while back, but no one answered—which isn’t surprising. He said the number is to the landline at his dad’s house, where his dad is living out his last days. Frank told her they usually left the ringer off. And he doesn’t have a cell.

He is, as it turns out, pretty hard to reach. Maya is only realizing this now, as she has never had to seek him out before. Frank has always come to her, calling her from the library or from his dad’s house to make plans or simply showing up at her door. But now she hasn’t seen him since he drove away with Aubrey, and it doesn’t make sense—it was just the night before last that they kissed, that they told each other how they felt. Aubrey has ruined everything.

Maya is on her way to the library, walking down First Street, passing another church. She’ll arrive just as Frank gets off work. She knows that showing up at his job may seem desperate, but how else is she supposed to reach him? She still doesn’t understand why he was so upset that she had told Aubrey about the cabin. But whatever his reason, Maya wants to make things right. Clear the air.

She has, after all, already requested the deferral paperwork from BU. Her mom doesn’t know this, of course, and Maya won’t tell her until it’s gone through.

She walks quickly. The sun is low, but the humidity holds the day’s heat, and sweat dampens the back of her neck. She knows that she is probably blowing things out of proportion—Frank has probably just been busy, and Aubrey is probably being an inconsiderate jerk. Surely there is nothing to worry about, and yet Maya can’t stop dwelling on the image of them driving away together in his car.

This must be why she thinks she sees them now, sitting together at a table in the window of the Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to the library. It must be that she’s been obsessing about them all day and has projected their faces onto two strangers. Her steps slow.

Could that really be the two of them talking over ice-blended coffees? Maya can only see the girl’s back, but she recognizes the dark hair, the pale shoulders.

It’s definitely Aubrey. And Frank.

He smiles the same smile that did Maya in, warm but sly and so strangely intimate.

Maya’s heart thuds in her throat as she walks to the entrance. She knew it; she was right. If Frank sees her as she reaches for the glass doors of Dunkin’ Donuts, he doesn’t react.

Aubrey doesn’t see her until she’s a few feet away. Her lips part. Her eyes go wide.

Only then does Frank seem to register what’s happening. Like Aubrey, he looks surprised, but he doesn’t look guilty. “Hey!” he says.

Aubrey’s face is pale.

Frank slides out of the plastic booth to greet Maya. He smiles, goes in for a hug. But Maya won’t let him.

She steps back, ducking his touch—and this surprises him. He looks hurt. He tries to meet her eyes, but she glares past him at her supposed best friend.

“I just went to pick up a book,” Aubrey says. “He recommended it to me yesterday—told me I should come pick it up.” She holds up the book, a hardcover with a daguerreotype of what looks like a magician on its front. The magician wears a long black tailcoat.

“That’s right,” Frank says. “I told her about a book I thought she’d like, and I lent it to her. I work at a library. It’s what I do. And because I was leaving, we walked over here for a coffee.”

“Whatever,” Maya says. “I don’t care.” But the words come out bitter, and Aubrey looks away.

Dunkin’ Donuts is quiet, the only other customers a nurse picking up a large order and an old man dozing at a table by the door.

Frank sighs. “Sorry if I upset you, Maya. I was trying to do something nice for your friend.”

“I’m not upset,” she says. But her voice is a little too loud, her posture too stiff. Aubrey looks down at the table. No one talks, and Maya wonders if she’s overreacted.

Is she being unreasonable?

When Frank speaks again, he sounds tired. Disappointed. “You know I hardly know anyone in town,” he says to Maya. “I spend all my time with you or my dad. A man who’s dying and a girl who’s moving away. Would you prefer I don’t make friends?” He gestures to Aubrey, who continues to look like she wants to disappear.

“Of course not,” Maya says. Could she really be the bad guy here? “But . . . my best friend?”

“We both like magic,” he says. “Illusions, mentalism, that kind of thing. It’s nice to have someone to talk about it with.” His eyes flit to Aubrey for confirmation, but she keeps her eyes on the floor.

Maya feels like she should apologize. But she doesn’t and she won’t.

“Anyway,” Frank says. “I need to pick up my dad at his support group. See you around, Maya.” Then, to Aubrey: “Hope you like the book.”

He takes his coffee with him, leaving a watery ring on the table.

Maya’s face burns as he walks away.

As soon as he’s gone, she turns to Aubrey. “You did this on purpose.”